


Space Punks

by Cinlat, Keirra



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, Cyborgs, F/M, Humor, Other, Space Shenanigans, and their shenanigans, every trooper needs a jedi sidekick, occasionally, swtor with friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-07-10 05:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15942689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keirra/pseuds/Keirra
Summary: Trev Brawlin and Jurr Jiin met as children at a medcenter on Rhinnal. A friendship was formed, leading to a lifetime of interesting choices, loud hair, and questionable clothing options.





	1. A Traumatic Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> After the fun that Keirra and I have had with Noara and Fynta, we decided that her trooper Jurr needed a Jedi sidekick, too. So, now we have the dynamic, punk duo of Jurr and Trev. They take not a whole lot seriously, and will definitely abuse the Force. Here’s a little drabble explaining how they met. These little blurbs will probably just be silly respites from deeper works, and are completely self-indulgent. We hope that you enjoy them as much as we do.
> 
> Word Count: 1689  
> In this chapter, Jurr is roughly 13, and Trev 15 years old.

****Trev’s head pounded to the beat of shoes scuffing along the floor. He’d thought that the hallways of the medcenter would be abandoned at this time of night; clearly, the Padawan was mistaken. **  
**

Padawan, that was a title that Trev wondered if he’d ever earn again. Master Vukosh was away on business, while Trev sat idly awaiting his body to mend. A snarl tugged at the back of the boy’s throat. He should have moved sooner, understood the danger when those soldiers had shouted for him to run. Trev, in his arrogance, hadn’t listened.

Leaning against the wall, Trev sighed at the metal glistening beneath his sleeve. It shone in the soft glow of the after hour lights. Given that Rhinnal’s medical facility was hidden beneath the planet’s icy surface, they only allowed the consumption of vast quantities of power during active hours. The times when everyone, Trev included, should be asleep were relegated to safety lighting alone.

Trev mentally ticked off another day, adding it to the three months he’d already spent in the Jedi’s healing facility. He’d finally mastered the stairs without becoming winded, pleased that his body had accepted the false lung as organic. Trev still couldn’t eat normally, but was assured that the stomach, pancreas, and quarter of his small intestine that had been replaced, would soon follow suit.

_Patience, young one._  Jedi Master Vukosh urged in the back of Trev’s mind.  _You must heal before training can begin. Until so, discipline your mind._  That was easier said than done. Patience had never been one of Trev’s virtues, otherwise, the Padawan might be whole and hale.

The scuff of shoes pulled at Trev’s consciousness, and he realized that those weren’t the hard soled shoes of healers, but the slippers of a patient. Taking Master Vukosh’s advice to heart, Trev closed his eyes and reached out with the Force. He’d always been more skilled a swordsman than with the delicate arts, but what the hell? He’d be lucky to ever hold his lightsaber again, anyway.

Images flitted behind Trev’s eyelids, colored mostly by confusion. He couldn’t get a solid read on the owner of those soft scrapes against the marble floors, and gave up when the effort aggravated his already aching head.

Opening his eyes, Trev pushed away from the wall. “The more direct path, then,” he commented to no one in particular.

The sounds carried Trev in an unexpected direction. He’d been following them towards the kitchen, then took a detour into the public showers and out the back door through the maintenance corridor. A crash sounded from one of the closets when Trev lost the trail, and he grinned in a feral way at having finally cornered his prey.

Flinging the door open, he found not the scoundrel that his imagination had supplied, but a skinny little kid. “What are you doing?” He asked when she didn’t respond to his interruption. Then, he snorted in derision when she had the audacity to shush him.

“I beg your—” Trev’s indignation cut off at another sharp hiss from the girl.

“If you’re going to stay there, at least shut the door.” The girl glanced over her shoulder, then sighed and turned her head the other way to see him with her natural eye.

Trev was so dumbstruck by the number of corrective implants she boasted that he obeyed without a word. Not that he had any business gawking, a hard to miss cybernetic was the only reason his jaw still worked. “Good,” the girl said. “Now hush, I’m trying to remember.”

“Remember what?” Trev asked before he could stop himself. His lips pressed closed at a stern glare from that singular, amber eye. The girl came no higher than his shoulder, and Trev estimated that she was maybe a year or two younger. Yet he dared not risk her ire.

Since it was clear that Trev was to remain an observer to this odd ritual of staring at a blank wall, he did just that. Together, girl and boy offered the back of the janitorial closet their greatest scrutinization. So long had the process stretched, that Trev gave a whimper when the girl clapped her hands together. “I’ve got it!”

Clutching at his chest, Trev glowered at the girl. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

The girl’s dark brow furrowed. “Nothing. Not anymore at least. I just remembered where I was going.”

Trev raised both arms in expectation of an answer. He’d waited this long, it was owed him. The girl’s expression turned horrified, and she crossed thin arms over her chest. “The ‘fresher, nosy. I don’t know why it’s any of your business, though.”

Without another word, the girl spun on her heel and marched out of the supply room, only to pause at the doorway and look both ways as if expecting to be run over by a hovercar. Without fully comprehending why, Trev cupped his hands to amplify the sound when he called after her. “Turn right!”

The girl’s spine stiffened, but she did so. Trev waited until after she’d vanished before releasing a light laugh. “That’ll be one to watch.” He didn’t know why, but the young Jedi had a strong sense that he’d see that forgetful little girl again.

* * *

As it turned out, Trev’s intuition was more reliable than he’d ever given it credit for. He’d just entered the lunch room after his first physical training session when the crowd of people drew his attention. Mostly patients, they clamored around in various stages of mobility, all vying to get a better look at the spectacle in the middle.

To Trev’s surprise, the skinny girl from the supply closet stood with hands on hips, glaring into the bulbous eyes of the kitchen master. In proper lighting, Trev could see that the girl’s hair hadn’t been dark like he assumed, but a vibrant shade of red. It stuck out at odd ends like it hadn’t been brushed in days, but it was the firm stance of her feet that caught the Padawan’s attention. A fighter’s stance. He bet she’d be a natural in the sparring ring.

“You really going to look me in the eye,  _girl_ , and tell me that you didn’t take that pie?” The cook glared in a fashion that might have been menacing if Trev didn’t know that the man was incapable of hurting even the rodents who plagued his kitchen. He always said that it wasn’t their fault they’d been shipped along with the goods, and had just as much right to survival as he did. He’d trap them, then carry the little beasts to a less traveled part of the facility.

“You got proof?” The girl countered. The cook turned an unhealthy shade of red. Sensing his composure was slipping, she flashed a smug grin. “Didn’t think so.”

Trev threw out his hand the moment the girl turned, and the kitchen master raised his baking sheet. Trev didn’t think that the cook would really have struck a child, but decided to err on the side of caution. Meanwhile, the girl stalked away, completely unperturbed.

Once she was gone, Trev released his hold on the Force. The cook sighed, ran a meaty hand down his face, then stormed back into the kitchen. Trev, followed the girl.

The hallways angled and twisted to provide the largest amount of floor space for the underground facility. Nothing went to waste. Trev dodged around patients, Jedi, and medical staff in search of the feisty little redhead. His curiosity burned so brightly that it was as he was being led directly to her room. In truth, he bumbled straight into an ambush.

Trev found his back slammed against the wall with more force than he’d expected. The air rushed from his lungs, causing the still healing fake one to wheeze before it inflated again. The girl didn’t appear moved. “You’re following me again.”

The accusation in her voice ignited Trev’s own temper. He shoved her back and felt equal parts amused by her stumble, and ashamed that he’d reacted with violence. Master Vukosh wouldn’t approve. Pushing those thoughts aside, Trev crossed his arms. “I wasn’t following you.”

The girl regained her balance and put herself toe to toe with Trev. She stared him in the eye, reminding the Padawan of his earlier assessment of her being a fighter. Trev rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, I was this time. But, that night was an accident.”

“Who are you?” She asked after a long, thorough inspection of only she knew what. “And, where’d your arm go?”

The fingers of Trev’s right hand had slipped out of his sleeve when they draped over the opposite arm. He still hadn’t grown accustomed to their inhuman presence, and hated being reminded of it. “Left it with the rest of my guts on Tatooine,” he snipped, then deflected the question back. “Who are you?”

“Jurr,” the girl answered, then bit her lip. “Pretty sure, at least. Are you a Jedi?”

“Not yet,” Trev answered, finding himself more relaxed now that he knew something about her. “What do you mean, pretty sure?”

Jurr shrugged and took a step back. “They say that’s what I told them when I woke up, but it’s all a little fuzzy.” She produced a datapad and waved it around fast enough the Trev couldn’t make out anything written on the device. “I’m supposed to write things down so that I don’t forget—but I don’t always think about it.”

“Amnesia?” Trev asked, then winced at Jurr’s annoyed huff. “Here I thought I had it bad.” At least her eccentric behavior made more sense. He could respect a girl who didn’t shy away from a world she couldn’t remember. It showed real spirit, and a depth of character that Trev could only imagine having.

Offering his hand in friendship, Trev introduced himself. “Name’s Trev Brawlin.”

Jurr accepted with a wide smile, all hostility from before fading into a playful expression. “Pleased to meet you. I’ll probably forget you by morning.”

Trev laughed and rubbed his chest. “Then, maybe our next meeting will be less traumatic.”


	2. What's In A Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trev's attempt at meditation is interrupted by Jurr, who once again proves that he will never have her fully figured out.

Trev hated meditation practice, but while he was recovering and unable to do much physical activity it was one of the few ways to pass time that Master Vukosh has assigned him. The only part he liked around it was spending time in the Green Room. Since the facility was both underground and on an ice planet, it was one of the few places on Rhinnal with more plant life than a potted fern in the corner of an office.

He was struggling with letting his mind join with the Force, the constant buzz of his thoughts making it difficult, so he sensed the moment Jurr entered the Green Room. The cloud of confusion that made her stand out from everyone else was unmistakable. It was almost comforting to him, even as he pitied the girl for her situation, that she was so consistent.

The anger and pain mixed into her confusion today however, was not. Something was wrong.

Giving up on his meditation, Trev opened his eyes and weighed the pros and cons of approaching Jurr. She was younger and smaller than him, but she could be volatile when she was upset, and his chest still ached from physical therapy. She also tended to clam up whenever he tried to press about how she was feeling. If there was one thing Jurr didn’t like to do, no matter how much she remembered at that moment, it was talking about her feelings.

Through the bushes he could see the top of her head, the bright red of her hair contrasting violently with the green foliage between them. It was only because he was watching her that he noticed the wadded up piece of flimsy she tossed behind her.

It fell short of hitting him, rolling in the grass, and he pulled it the rest of the way to his hand with the Force. Carefully, so she wouldn’t hear him, he smoothed out the paper to see what his friend was throwing away.

It was a list of names. Most started with the letter J, like Juri and Jurika, but some had no similarity to her current name. Dayvi, Nila, Kyra – there were dozens of them, all scratched out. Some didn’t even look like first names, Souen, Kawle, Jiin, Balliol, those looked to Trev like surnames. Some he even recognized as names of technicians, doctor’s or even patients he had met during his stay.

Now he was far too curious to walk away.

Trev got up and made his way over to where she was sitting, the datapad she carted everywhere to document her life in her lap as she scrolled idly thought it. Stopping next to her, he held the paper out inside her limited line of sight. “This yours Jurr?”

The girl looked up, brow furrowing in a way that let him know she didn’t recognize him. “Yeah,” she said sharply, snatching it back.

“Collecting names?”

Jurr grimaced, “something like that. Never gonna know my name for sure, therapist says I’ll need a full one. No idea why it matters.”

Trev plopped down on the grass next to her, “everyone needs a name, why wouldn’t it matter?”

“Names only matter for real people, people who get to have real lives,” she sighed. “That won’t be me.”

“Course you will,” Trev said quickly, ignoring the tightening of his chest. He had seen a lot of different sides of Jurr, but the resigned sadness in her single amber eye made it hard to breathe. “When you’re well enough to leave, you know that.”

Jurr’s eye narrowed into a glare. “And where would I go? I don’t have a family, or a home. I don’t even have a _name_. You know what the techs call me? _Subject RH-78,_ like I’m a droid with a faulty memory core. I don’t know anywhere else, I barely know this hospital most days.”

The teenage Jedi stared at the grass near his knee, unsure how to respond to her outburst. He knew, had sensed, some of the fear and pain Jurr felt at times but she always denied it. Always put on a brave face. This raw emotion was the first time he had seen her reacting to her situation the way he would expect someone to.

“Even if I do leave this place someday,” she continued softly, picking a long piece of grass and pulling it apart between her fingers, “what kind of life could be that be anyway? They told me today there are no other implants or programs to try, everything on the market has failed to restore my mind. I don’t remember them saying it, but it’s in my notes. What I have now is all there is.” Jurr looked up and rubbed at her eye. Trev hadn’t seen a tear but her hand was wet when it returned to the piece of grass. “I will never really know anyone, not even myself. You’re talking to me like we are friends, like I should know you, but I don’t. Should I?”

“I know you,” Trev said carefully avoiding her question, “and I don’t mind reintroducing myself, they do say the first impression is the most important right? This way I get to do it over until I can get it right. I’m Trev Brawlin.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said before frowning. “Again.”

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be to deal with, but you can’t let it beat you Jurr,” he grinned at her. “If anyone can figure out how to make this work it will be you.”

Jurr gave him a half-hearted smile, “I guess. You’d know better than I would.” She turned her head to look at him properly and he could feel her eye lingering on his implants and metallic arm. “You were hurt, bad right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, holding up his prosthetic arm and making the claw like fingers on it move. “You could say that.”

“Do you…do you ever wish they hadn’t saved you?” The seriousness of her question shocked him almost as much as the question itself. Trev wondered if her doctors knew she was feeling this way, but he hadn’t known, and he could sense her emotions so wherever this hurt was hiding she had buried it deep.

“No,” he answered the only way he knew how.

Jurr pulled her knees to her chest and sniffed. This time he was sure he saw a tear roll down her cheek. “I do.”

Feeling awkward, crying people always made him uncomfortable, Trev reached over and patted the top of her head. He wanted to tell her it would be okay, that she wasn’t going to always be alone or stuck in this facility, but even when he knew she wouldn’t remember he didn’t want to lie to her.

Because he didn’t know any of that was true.

Instead he sat next to her, his hand on her head and rubbing her scalp where she had once told him it felt nice against the twinges of pain in her healing scars, while she cried. After several minutes she calmed down and lifted her head. She didn’t wipe the tears off her cheek, as if she didn’t realize they were there, and frowned at him.

“Who are you?”

Trev smiled sadly, unsure if it was a good thing she didn’t remember the last few minutes. “Name’s Trev Brawlin, we’re friends Jurr.”

“Oh. Hi Trev.” She picked up her datapad and turned the screen back, her actions guided by habit more than a conscious memory of the device’s importance. “I need a name,” she said, chewing on her lower lip.

“You made a list,” Trev said, picking up the sheet of flimsy and handing it to her. “I don’t think you liked them much though.”

He watched her scan through the list before she pointed at one, “I kinda like this one.”

Leaning over to see that she was pointing at _Jurr Jiin_ , Trev smiled. “Yeah, I could call you JJ. It suits you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know you,” he said, laughing when she looked at him skeptically. “You’re a little different everyday but you are still you. That never changes.”

“Okay I’ll have to take your word for it,” she shook her head and smiled. “Jurr Jiin, JJ. I like it.” She started typing on her datapad, “better write that down while I still remember it.”

Trev bumped her shoulder with his, “don’t worry I’ll remember it. Just in case.”


	3. Secret Password

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trev and Jurr have a plan that neither knows how to carry out. Luckily, Jedi Master Vukosh is cleverer that his wards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1852

 

“Focus Jurr.” Trev held an image in his mind, a handshake, something simple enough for his limited Force abilities. Two hands, one slightly smaller than the other, grasping in friendship and trust. He peeked an eye open when they faded to find his young companion playing with the pedal of a bright, red flower. 

Trev sighed.

“Jurr,” Trev dragged her name out in exasperation.

The girl’s head snapped up, eye wide. “Yeah?” Jurr’s brow furrowed, then a familiar blush crept into her cheeks. Not from embarrassment, but annoyance. “What were we doing?”

Trev ran both hands down his face, then puffed a frustrated breath before speaking again. “It’s my fault. I’m not strong enough, yet.”

Jurr’s features fell further, and Trev pushed to his feet. “I have an idea.” He started towards the door, then paused when Jurr didn’t follow. He hated the suspicion in that single, amber eye almost as much as he approved of it. A girl in Jurr's situation shouldn't follow without first questioning their motives. 

“We’re friends," Trev began for the fourth time that day. "I'm Trev, and you're Jurr Jiin, we've been in the garden all morning together.”

After a scrutinizing once over, Jurr shrugged. “Sure, why not.” Trev knew there was more to her answer than that. She'd weighed the possibilities and found his answer satisfactory. Regardless of her casual tone, the girl was more cautious than she let on.

They walked in silence until Trev turned into the science wing. Master Vukosh was visiting for the week, and could always be found tinkering when his duties as healer were finished. Jurr stopped, her chest heaving and eye full of panic.

Trev paused when he realized his friend hadn't followed. “Come on, Jurr.” He was tired and wanted to get this over with.

“I—” The girl took a step back. “I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Trev closed the gap in a few strides and took Jurr’s wrist. On reflection, he deserved the kick to the shin, and the ensuing agony that radiated into his hip. Jurr jerked back and shook her head so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t stagger.

Suppressing a growl while bracing himself against the wall, Trev took another breath. Master Vukosh had warned that such an undertaking would stretch the Padawan's patience, but Trev was certain that he would be different.

It was easy when Jurr was lucid, usually after spending an hour with her datapad and stylus. The girl never let Trev see what she drew, but that seemed to be the only constant in her life apart from him. Jurr was fun, most of the time. She had a quirky sense of humor, and Trev honestly enjoyed her company.  Jurr had become the little sister he'd never know.

Then, there were days like today. Days when Trev couldn’t help his friend focus for more than a few minutes at a time. Days when she was prone to volatile outbursts. Trev knew better than to touch Jurr when she held that expression, but her kicks hadn't taught the young Padawan any more than Master Vukosh’s disciplinary whacks during training had.

Slowly, Trev approached Jurr with hands held out where she could see them. “Hey, JJ, what’s wrong?”

Jurr shook her head again, single eye fixed over Trev’s shoulder. The lights on her cybernetic flashed in a pattern that Trev recognized. She was caught in the grips of a panic attack. He’d seen a few of them, when stress triggered an episode that ended with his friend barely remembering her name. That had terrified the children equally, and later, Trev had cried himself to sleep. Not that he'd ever admit to it.

Trev glanced over his shoulder to see what had caused the problem in the hopes of removing it before Jurr reached the point of no return. There was nothing there, only the quiet hall of the science division. Realization slammed into Trev so profoundly that it stole his breath. This was where they tested new techniques to revive Jurr’s memory. Where they tweaked her cybernetics and reset her brain.

I’m an idiot, Trev realized. 

Standing taller, Trev used his body to encompass as much of Jurr’s view as he could. “You know what, I think I left something in the garden.” Jurr still wouldn’t look at him, and he wondered if the girl was aware of why that particular part of the facility troubled her so much. Trev had seen Jurr walk down it dozens of times, laughing with nurses or pouting because they came during her favorite holotoon. 

Then, there were times when Jurr fought and had to be sedated. After those, Trev's friend returned with a hollow expression that left him shaken for days. Something inside of her, for whatever reason, didn’t trust that hallway today. Trev needed a new plan.

“Come on, JJ,” Trev tried again, enunciating Jurr's favorite nickname to focus her attention where he wanted it. Trev risked a light touch on Jurr's elbow, and puffed in relief when she allowed him to lead her away. 

As Trev led Jurr back towards the garden, he retrieved his comm and sent a message for Master Vukosh to meet them. The reply was almost immediate, and Trev sighed when the Jedi agreed. 

Trev deposited his friend back on the ground where they sat earlier, thankful that her movements weren't quite as wooden as before. She busied herself with sketching again, a simple flower like the one at eye level. Vukosh strode into the garden less than ten minutes later with concern etched into his features. “What is wrong, Padawan? Your message sounded urgent.”

Trev glanced at his friend, noting the way Vukosh’s eyes followed. “I see.”

“She likes it better here,” Trev interjected before his master could draw any further conclusions. Jurr hated for anyone to see her weakness, and it was only their daily sessions that allowed her to be so open with Trev. “More—receptive. I thought it better to keep her that way.” 

Vukosh stroked his chin, nodding. “I understand.” Trev didn’t doubt it for a moment, but the Togruta was too tactful to push for more information than they were willing to give. “How can I help?”

Trev chewed on the inside of his lip, trying to decide how best to explain to his master what he was trying to do. It was way above his skill level, and Jurr’s constant forgetfulness meant they started new every day. Letting his arms fall limp, Trev sighed. “I’m trying to create a Force bond.”

“Oh?” Master Vukosh asked in a tone that was only a little patronizing. “That is a complicated matter. May I ask why?” The Togruta crossed his arms in a fashion that Trev knew meant he expected an answer regardless of the polite request  

“I thought—” Trev clamped his jaw shut, teeth grinding under the patient gaze of his mentor. Suddenly, the Padawan’s planned seemed foolish. Force bonds were only possible between people who had access to the Force, and Jurr showed no signs of that. 

Trev looked back at his friend, smiling at the innocent way she bit her lip while studying the plant she tried to replicate. “I thought that if Jurr had a connection to someone, it would make her feel better when she can’t remember where she is.” 

The pale yellow oval above Vukosh’s right eye rose, and Trev continued in a rush. “She may not remember who I am, but Jurr needs to know that someone in her life is safe. That she isn’t completely alone.”

Long seconds passed before Vukosh spoke again, his gaze never wavering from the girl. “An interesting hypothesis,” the Togruta mused, then closed his eyes. “Slight, but still there. Yes, I believe it will work.”

“Master?” Trev hedged, unsure whether the words were meant for him or not. 

Vukosh gave a sharp nod before looking back at his Padawan. “What you suggest requires far more skill than what you possess, young one.” Trev’s heart sank, shoulders sagging in defeat. Vukosh continued undaunted. “You’ll need an anchor, a string of words, perhaps, that can trigger Jurr’s emotions when uttered with use of the Force. If a feeling of security is all you seek, then a Force bond is not necessary; merely a secret password.”

Of course, it made perfect sense. “Thank you, Master.” Trev turned, an idea beginning to take form in his mind. Vukosh stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

When Trev faced his master, the Togruta’s expression was grave. “This is a heavy burden, young one. Do not toy with this girl’s sensibilities unless you are willing to protect her for the rest of your days. She is a human, an individual, who is trusting you with a great advantage.” Vukosh’s fingers tightened. “Never betray her.”

Until that moment, Trev hadn’t considered the implications of what they were doing. It was simply an idea the two had conjured up when neither could sleep. Hearing those words—Trev could take advantage of her, lead her into danger, or worse--he quickly shied away from that line of thinking.

“I won’t,” Trev vowed. He meant it to the core of his soul. Jurr was his friend, his only friend, and he’d cut off his other arm before ever intentionally hurting her. “I’ll protect her, Master.”

With a look over his shoulder, Trev whispered. “Someone needs to.”

“I can not talk you out of this,” Vukosh sighed, though Trev got the impression that he’d given the correct answer when his master’s hand lifted. Though, Trev still felt the ghost of that warning. Vukosh had pledged his own vow, woven in between the spoken words. Trev had little doubt that should he renege, Vukosh would ensure that the Padawan faced a just punishment. 

Without another word, Master Vukosh clasped red hands behind his back and strolled away. A soft humming lingered in the humid air long after he vanished from sight.

Swallowing, Trev joined Jurr on the ground to stare at the flower she’d sketched. Instead of delicate lines and curves, the pedals were squared and abstract. A lot like Jurr. Trev smiled.

“A string of words,” the Padawan repeated as he watched Jurr’s head tilt first right, then left while she studied the object. Seeing it in a way that Trev never would. He touched her shoulder, gingerly, and waited for a reaction.

Jurr’s amber eye slid towards him, flashing vague recognition, then she smiled. “This one’s new." Jurr tapped a still closed bud with the tip of her stylus. “Bet it’ll open tomorrow.”

With a single act, Jurr had solved Trev’s dilemma. He knew what the password had to be. 

Opening himself to the Force, the Padawan sought a link with Jurr’s mind. It was easier now that he understood the ever shifting plane of her thoughts. Focusing his energy, Trev uttered the statement that would hopefully link them for the rest of their natural lives. Something specific to his forgetful young friend. A string of words to anchor her emotions to a single, safe moment in time. “What’s new, JJ?”


	4. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trev has been discharged, but returns for follow-ups every three months. This is after their first, long separation as kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: “Remember, you have to remember.”
> 
> Word Count: 518

Trev’s hands shook as he exited the shuttle. It had been three months since he’d been to Rhinnal. Three months since he’d seen Jurr face to face. Of course, Trev has messaged her during their separation, but he could tell by Jurr’s responses that his words no longer triggered any memory. It made the young Jedi wonder what he’d find when they were reunited. Would Jurr smile, or greet him with unfamiliar suspicion?

Taking a breath, Trev made his way towards the cafeteria, bag of candy in hand. Master Vukosh had helped Trev choose an assortment that they knew Jurr liked, and he cradled it against his chest like a shield. Who knew how Jurr would react without a peace offering. That, and Trev couldn’t silence the gnawing worry that their Force bond had weakened.

After spending time traveling with a new master, Trev had learned so much about the Force. He was certain that he’d done something wrong when bonding with his amnesiac friend. Part of Trev didn’t want to attempt the code phrase for fear of it not working. He’d be crushed if there was nothing left of the friendship they’d spent nearly a year cultivating.

Trev paused at the door to the mess hall. He peeked through a small, square window towards the top and held his breath when vibrant, red hair came into view. It was shorter than when he’d left, which meant that Jurr was recovering from another procedure. Trev winced, that didn’t bode well for his chances here.

Paying special mind to his breathing, Trev entered the room and headed directly to his friend. Jurr remained oblivious to his presence, lost in her doodling. It gave Trev time to examine her, and he winced at the raw, angry skin around her new implants. It wasn’t until she looked up and cocked her head that Trev realized he hadn’t spoken. Clearing his throat, Trev held out the sack of sweets. “What’s new, JJ?”

Red brows furrowed while Trev’s heart pounded.  _Remember_ , he pleaded through the Force,  _you have to remember._

Jurr’s singular eye went to the bag that dangled from Trev’s fingers before they trailed back to him. “I know you, right?”

Smiling, Trev nodded. “It’s been a while. I’m back to have my spare parts checked.” He lifted the robotic arm as emphasis. Jurr winced, but he waved her concern away. “Mind if I join you for a little while?”

Jurr nodded and watched Trev slide into the chair across from her. It wasn’t until the silence stretched that he realized he hadn’t told her his name. Trev was so relieved she’d accepted him, that their bond had held, that he’d forgotten the next step. Nudging the candies closer to her, he smiled again. “I’m Trev, by the way. And, I’ve really missed you.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more about these two, including screenshots, on Tumblr under Cinlat or kunoichi-ume


End file.
